Pay attention to me!
by darkheart510
Summary: Only Alfred can make reading a book so distracting. USUK


Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia. The characters and story are not representative of the relationship between the actual nations or any sort of historical or current events.

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"Arthur..."

Arthur hunched closer to the desk, ignoring the plaintive cries coming from the side of his desk. The forms and paperwork were becoming a little worn from being constantly erased. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Arthur. Arty. Arrrrthur. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr—"

The pencil in his hand snapped in half. "Would you stop bloody sounding like a pirate and shut your gob?"

"Pay attention to me. I'm lonely. I miss you. I want you. Let's go out somewhere." Alfred laid his head on the desk and peered up from under his bangs. Alfred's sky-blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight and he beamed his best winning smile at the Brit.

Arthur suddenly wondered if this was what it was like to own a furry, adorable, and utterly manipulative dog. "Idiot, I didn't ask you to come over."

"But you were going to stay cooped up in this dusty office all day. I couldn't let my Iggy do that." Alfred smiled again. "Please?"

"NO. I have tons of important paperwork to do and I don't need you distracting me. Either shut up or go away." Arthur grabbed another pencil and started scribbling away on his notes from the last world meeting. Brows furrowed in concentration, Arthur managed to churn out half a paragraph before he heard it.

_Sniffle._

Arthur's head jerked up and glared at the source of the noise. Alfred was still clinging to the side of his desk, only this time, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Arthur tried to stamp out the traitorous feelings of guilt rising from his gut, especially since it was probably all an act meant to destroy his ironclad determination to ignore the younger nation.

Alfred sniffled again and this time, his lower lip trembled.

"Alright! Alright! Stop getting all my papers salty." Arthur threw up his hands and got out of the chair.

Alfred brightened. The tears that had been sparkling in his eyes vanished instantly. "So you're going to stop being such a crotchety old man and play with me?" Arthur handed him a book and sat back down. "What's this?"

Cocking one enormous eyebrow at his former colony, Arthur said, "It's a pink cockatiel, you git; what the bloody hell does it look like to you?"

"It looks like a book; has your old age finally gotten the best of you?" Alfred looked worried.

Resisting the urge to beat Alfred into a pulp (the blood would ruin the carpets), Arthur responded more calmly than he felt, "It is a book, which you are going to quietly read as I finish my work, then we can go out and do whatever the hell you want. Understand?"

"Oh! Okay! I gotcha!" Alfred skipped to the couch by the window and flopped down with an accomplished air.

Arthur waited a couple seconds to see if the younger nation would do anything else, but Alfred seemed content to read. Turning back to his paperwork, Arthur began working out the rest of his presentation for the next meeting. The scratching of pencil on paper and the occasional sound of a page turning was all that disturbed the silence of the room.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then ten.

Arthur nibbled the eraser as he searched for the word he needed. Glancing absentmindedly about the room for inspiration, he was surprised to see Alfred still stretched out on the couch reading the book. In his concentration, he had completely forgotten about his former colony.

Taking a short breather, he studied Alfred, who seemed completely enthralled by the events taking place in the book. Alfred's fingers traced the edges of the pages before returning to the corners, worrying at them with his fingertips. Then almost as if his fingers realized what they were doing, they would smooth out the wrinkles and bends, coaxing the pliant paper back to its original shape. But Alfred would repeat the process over and over, teasing the pages relentlessly. Unrepentant. His other hand held down the pages of the novel, firm, but gentle. As he moved to turn the page, this hand would sweep the wide milky-expanse of the paper as if he could feel the words trembling beneath his fingertips and he sought to calm them.

A low sound brought Arthur's gaze to Alfred's face where excitement colored his cheeks pink. A wet tongue darted out to lick at his lips and Arthur could hear the younger nation's breathing quicken as an action scene played out in his head. Alfred sat up straight, his back arching and muscles tense with anticipation. Would the villain be bested or would the hero fall? His bright blue eyes were intense with concentration. Growing restless, Alfred slouched back against the armrest and dangled one long lithe leg off the couch. His new position pulled his shirt up but tugged his jean down low, exposing a belly button and a trail of golden blonde hairs that disappeared into denim. His former colony was going commando today.

Absentmindedly, the fingers that had been tormenting the pages made their way down his torso and scratched his belly. Arthur felt his temperature rise exponentially as Alfred's fingers started to tug on the hairs on his abdomen, dipping underneath the waistband of his jeans before coming back out to play some more.

Mesmerized, Arthur watched this for another ten seconds before he shot up from his desk and made his way over to the former colony. His pants were feeling a little uncomfortable at this point.

Alfred looked up as his licked his thumb and turned another page, "Done?"

"No," said Arthur as he reached out and pulled the book out of Alfred's hands, ignoring the younger nation's words of protest. He removed Alfred's glasses and settled them out of harm's way, "But it doesn't matter now."


End file.
